Quote

I thought I'd pay you a visit, my dear. Since you're so interesting. My mouth shifted into high gear, leaving my brain behind. You know, you're the second guy in a few days to call me that. You should be more creative.

Lilith Saintcrow

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Lilith Saintcrow
Age: 48
Born: 1976
Born: January 1
Author
Novelist
Writer
New Mexico
United States
Anna Beguine
Lili St. Crow
Guy
Behinds
Gear
Call
Behind
Gears
Interesting
Second
Visit
Thought
Days
Mouth
Brain
Mouths
Since
Leaving
Creative
Dear
High
Pay
Shifted

More quotes by Lilith Saintcrow

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Oh God, Oh God we’re all gonna die doesn’t really fit the definition of banter, now does it?
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The end of a gun looks very big and very back when it's staring you in the face.
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Really, I scolded myself, you should have known that you'd end up in a stone dungeon with no facilities. That's how these things always end up, isn't it?
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Christophe, with the careful tone of an adult telling a kid not to pet the nice foaming-rabid pooch.
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I guess since the groin is the center of a guy's world, he rarely guesses it isn't the center of yours.
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He laughed. The laugh could strip the skin off an elephant in seconds.
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Boys always get the best eyelashes it's like some kind of cosmic law. And half-breed kids get some kind of extra help there from genetics, too.
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I looked like a ghost. And I should know. I’ve seen a few.
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Besides, the normal people here wouldn’t see it. That was what “different” meant. It’s just another word for lonely.
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I wondered what I’d end up looking like once I bloomed. I couldn’t even guess. If I had to be stuck in my own skinny, gawky, coltish body forever… well. It probably wouldn’t be so bad. I wouldn’t mind a little more in the chest, though. But wild horses wouldn’t drag that out of me. Ever.
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Death did not play favorites—He loved all equally. What you cannot escape, you must fight what you cannot fight, you must endure . The god's voice—not quite words, just a thread of meaning laid in my receptive mind—
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I wasn't sure if the word boys should mean dim or incomprehensible. I was hovering between the two, with a healthy dose of testosterone-poisoned.
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It truly sucks to doubt your friends when you only have one or two of them, I realized.
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The smell of apple pies didn't quite fill the house, but it was there, a thread under everything else. It was kind of hard to take Christophe seriously when he smelled like baked goods. I wondered if other djampjir smelled like Hostess Twinkies and sniggered to myself.
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There was Kir, red hair combed back and That Expression on his sharp face. Even his freckles looked serious. I'd given up wondering how a freckle-faced teenager could look so much like a disapproving granny.
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What you cannot escape, you must fight what you cannot fight, you must endure.
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Some of the djamphir are so pretty it almost hurts to look at them. And it was hard to look without feeling rumpled and messy in comparison.
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They all looked like a shampoo commercial, healthy and clear-skinned, perfectly proportioned, a group of handsome young men. Their clothes hung on them like they were glad to be gracing such supermodels.
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Zombies smell worse than anything you can imagine if you haven’t been hunting things on the dark side of the world. It’s a ripe, gassy odour, like rotting eggs and meat gone bad, crawling blind with maggots. It’s road kill and decayed food and body odour all rolled into one package and tied up with puke.
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People don’t really want to know anything about you. They just want you to fit into their little predetermined slots. They decide what you are in the first two seconds, and they only get nervous or upset if you don’t live up to their snap judgments.
Lilith Saintcrow